


Acts of Service

by tolarian



Series: Prometheus [3]
Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Anal Play, Breathplay, Cum Play, Edgeplay, Gender-Neutral Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Internalized Homophobia, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Other, POV Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Tentacles, Under-negotiated Kink, Vore, even if Eddie is having fun here, venom needs to learn about consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolarian/pseuds/tolarian
Summary: Eddie worries that he doesn't do much for the symbiote; they disagree.Part of Prometheus.





	Acts of Service

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place earlier in the Symbrock relationship presented in the Prometheus series. This is through Venom's POV and Venom's approach to consent is really dubious here: they do several things to Eddie without asking first. These include breathplay, a kind of under-negotiated psychological play focused on Eddie's feelings of shame regarding bottoming (which I've tagged as edgeplay), anal play, and cum play. They need to discuss the importance of consent, but it has not happened yet in this story. (It does later.) I think part of Venom's problem here is their sense of being a "we" with Eddie, sharing a body: they need to learn that their intimacy does not equal consent.
> 
> Eddie's an enthusiastic participant who enjoys pain and psychological play but he's not actually given the chance to agree or refuse ahead of time. He is told multiple times to "admit" he is enjoying the sexual contact, and while he is, the exchange is more a kind of play than an actual check-in. It is absolutely okay if that means this is not for you. Despite the tags, Eddie is not especially injured in this scene beyond some bruising and soreness.
> 
> Full Content Notes at the end. If I missed anything, I apologize. Please do let me know. Thank-you for reading!

Venom is looped lazily around their neck when Eddie’s thoughts turn, as they always eventually do, to their basic drives.  Technically, he is reading a book, but the rate of their pulse indicates his attention has strayed to primary concerns. Humans as a species appear to be remarkably alienated from the need to consume and to proliferate: so much of what they do is  _ornamental_. 

Their time together has helped Eddie think less about ornamentation and more about meat. It is pleasing to know that their bond has changed them both. The planet is awash in Eddie’s native species while their own is—thankfully—rare. It would be easy for only Venom to shift to meet Eddie’s alien perspective but they reach for each other instead. 

Not that they need to reach, like this, with Venom partially exposed to the air, partially submerged under their skin. They prefer to completely sink into Eddie, to overlay at the atomic level. But the feel of the air in the apartment is intriguing, as is the thrum of Eddie’s biological processes, felt from outside. 

They squeeze their throat a little, though Eddie’s access to oxygen is not truly being constricted, not in any way the cells can understand. It is merely their lungs and brain that sense the pressure and draw conclusions from it, expanding the chest, releasing the chemicals of panic. They allow it, because mildly stressing Eddie—knowing they can heal the results of any teasing they inflict upon their shared body—is enjoyable. 

Perhaps there is more to these ornamental drives than they first believed. Playing with Eddie like this serves only the drive for pleasure: they would do it all day, if Eddie didn’t insist on activities like  _work._ and all the other circuitous processes with which he fills their day.

For Eddie’s species, pleasure is intimately connected to reproduction, but the pleasure they have together is not, in that sense, productive. Is it an essential need or not? They wonder, coiling tighter around their neck. 

“V, buddy?” Eddie asks. “Not enjoying the book?” 

Truthfully, they were not paying much attention to it. Their focus was on how Eddie reacted to it, how admiration and anger tensed his rib cage, redirected the pressure of their breath through Eddie’s nostrils. It was the subtle turn from one form of arousal to another that interested them: they believe the shift was aided initially by the sensation of coiling loosely around their neck. Accelerated further by the tightening. 

Eddie has struggled to explain his keen interest in the book’s author and subject, a human woman named Ida B. Wells. The problem is not that Venom is disinterested in abstraction. Ideas can have as much impact on Eddie’s physiology as physical sensations. Venom’s interest tends toward the immediate: the multivalent flavors of a particular word are fascinating. An extended narrative is not.

Eddie does not understand: he loves narratives. Circuitous processes again. 

“V?” Concern makes Eddie’s voice even more constrained than usual. It has been intriguing to learn that Eddie’s voice is unlike so many other humans: his voice has a simultaneous compression and depth to it that echoes their own.  

_“Honestly, sometimes it sounds like you got punched in the throat, Ed,” Dan had said after consuming too many glasses of the intoxicant Anne favors._  

_“_ _Eh,_ _m_ _ighta_ _happened,” Eddie had responded, while Venom curled smugly in their chest._  

_As if they would_ **_ever_ ** _allow permanent damage to Eddie._ _And if someone p_ _unched_ _Eddie in the throat, they would eat them. Starting with the knuckles._  

“We okay, buddy?” Eddie puts his book down. 

**You are aroused** , they share.  **What are you thinking about, Eddie?**  

They will not access the information directly, because Eddie had alarmingly requested “some space.” When it became obvious that the request had nothing to do with the relative position of objects, it was less annoying. And then  _more_ annoying, when Eddie explained what he truly meant, as he does again, now.  

The redundancy is confusing: Eddie wastes energy sharing information they already have. And it is not pleasing information. 

“I just want a little privacy, V. Not even all the time. Just—maybe you ask before you read my mind?” 

**We do not read your mind. We monitor your physiological processes and extrapolate. And we** **_did_ ** **ask. What are you thinking about?**  

“Uh,” Eddie says, as Venom winds around their throat, a little sulky now. “You, actually.” 

They knew that: they had  _encouraged_ it, but they like to hear Eddie say it. Pleasing information is worth repeating, confirming. Especially when it makes Eddie stammer.  

**Do tell.**  

“You, uh, you do a lot for us, buddy,” Eddie says. Their blood pressure is elevated. The surface of their skin is warm with blood.  “Do I _do_ anything for you?” 

Confusion at the question.  **You are our host. We depend upon you to survive in this envi** **r** **onment.**  

“Well, yeah.” Eddie persists, even though his line of thinking is unclear. This happens often. The meandering of his thoughts is as confusing as it is charming. Ornamentation again: Eddie’s influence makes them lenient about wastefulness. It would be so much simpler to read his mind. “But, aside from just being here, I don’t really  _do_ much for you.” 

**You believe you could do more for us than you do already?** They do not tighten further around Eddie’s throat, but the question and its accompanying implications makes the breath come faster. 

The sense of their cheeks blushing is delightful. The rush of heat to the tips of their ears is Venom’s favorite part: it makes their body feel  _full_ , flush with blood. They are aware that Eddie is particularly invested in the dilation of the arteries near his genitals, the constriction of the veins there, for obvious reasons. 

They slip a hand into Eddie’s shorts: manual stimulation encourages pleasant processes. Eddie may not appreciate the complex combination of systems that allow his tumescence, but he certainly reacts to  _this_. 

“Ah, Jesus, V,” he says, twitching. He makes a perfunctory attempt to pull the hand away, but he sighs as their fingers slowly stroke instead. “You’re supposed to  _warn_ me before you pull my strings, bud.” 

**Only your strings?**  They ask, but Eddie’s brain is releasing chemicals that signal he will not pay close attention to their words. Unless he is made to. They squeeze the hand suddenly,  roughly.  **You have distracted us, Eddie.** **You wish to perform acts of service for us** **?**  

“Unh,” Eddie says, digging their free hand into the couch at the pain. Their hips shift abortively, thrusting up into the unkind hand.  

The modes of communication used by Eddie’s native species are astoundingly inefficient—symbols, sound waves, all dependent on systems not even consistent across the planet. When Eddie can concentrate, he is apparently quite a good communicator by their standards. He is far better at  glyphs than vibrations, as Dan likes to point out.   

It is satisfying to observe Eddie when he  _struggles_ to concentrate, however.  

**You** **already serve us** **,** they say as tendrils skim the surface of their body. **The respiration of your cells is a service you render us** **constantly** **.**  The protrusions of flesh seek the space between the outermost layers of Eddie’s skin and the clothes that provide additional environmental protection—unnecessary given their presence but Eddie is still very attached to human social conventions, including the use of clothing. The unhurried pace of their progress paradoxically quickens Eddie’s pulse. 

They release the tension around their throat. **Breathe for us now, Eddie** **, and know it is us for whom you** **do** **it** **.**  

There is a sensation that occurs when Eddie’s attention is drawn to processes that their body normally regulates without his intervention, the ones that Venom curates for maximum efficiency. The experience when their awareness overlaps is like touch: Eddie’s attention is there with them in the fold of membranes, in the tension of the muscles. Together.  

Eddie gasps. They can sense the rush of air down their throat, the expansion of their lungs, can feel Eddie’s single-minded focus on it. Service rendered. 

**What if that were your task, Eddie, your only task? What if we only allowed you this one thing, and took care of everything else? You would not even need to see.** **Or think.**  

Eddie’s breath—their breath—starts to regulate itself as he is distracted by the idea, so Venom turns the touch of the fingers gentle again. They smooth the rhythm of their hand as they stroke their cock: they steady its pace over sensitive skin.  

“Wouldn’t be fair,” Eddie mumbles, blinking distractedly. “Wouldn’t be a—unh—partnership.” 

**And we are partners. Did you know Eddie, that in such a relationship, we are both symbionts? Not host and parasite** —the thumb teases the very tip of their cock at the word and Eddie whines, knowing that word is  _dangerous_ — **but two symbionts together.**  

**When we are under your skin** —Venom sends pressure and attention to push from inside of Eddie outward, to distend the elastic barrier of their skin and associated tissues almost to the point of pain. They then release it— **your scientists call** **that** **endosymbiosis. When we are on the surface of your skin** —they flood Eddie, covering him completely, but not forming their face, their real face. They writhe over him, pressing into the eyelids, shoving inside his mouth to press against his tongue— **they call it** **ectosymbiosis** **.**  

Eddie moans into their rippling surface. Their lungs expand and for the barest passage of time they are denied air. They pull the overlay of mobile flesh tight, so they can feel the pressure together and then they dissipate entirely as Eddie tries to inhale again. They are only teasing.  

Venom withdraws until Eddie’s skin is uncovered, exposed to the air. The hand stroking their cock is the only outward sign of their influence. 

**However, we might call upon you for a particular service** , they say, sending the thinnest possible spread of their mass over Eddie’s cock. A barrier measurable in cells, squeezed between their clutching fingers. **You do the work now, Eddie. Touch us.**  

They let the fingers go limp and Eddie groans in frustration. His efforts to reassert control are clumsy; he squeezes too tightly, strokes at the wrong pace before body memory asserts itself. They thicken around him, squeezing out between the gaps in their fist—Eddie is uncomfortably reminded of something called Play-Doh and suddenly there are conflicting signals in their brain: arousal, nostalgia, embarrassment. But Eddie is undeterred by the confusion: he manipulates their flesh now, chasing the sensation they share when he squeezes them around his cock. 

“V, I’m—uhh—this what you want, V?” Eddie asks. The signs are there: muscle contractions and the euphoria in their nerves and muscles, building. There is doubled sensation: they wrap around Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s hand and his attention wrap around them. Just as intriguing as the pressure is the effort: Eddie is trying to please them, forgetting that  _his_ gratification is  _their_ gratification. Theirs together. 

**Yes** **, Eddie** **.**  

“Ah, fuck,” Eddie says and the process completes delightfully. Eddie shudders, and as he ejaculates into them, they absorb the semen. There is a sensation like taste: satisfying. 

**Good job,**  they say.  **In the spirit of equal partnership, we will take over now.**  

“Unh,” Eddie says, lying limply on the couch. They feel heavy. 

They pull Eddie’s shorts off, feeling the hairs on his skin lift, responding to the currents of air in the small room. The tendrils that deposit the shorts on the floor—unharmed, because they promised Eddie that they would not need to go shopping for clothing again this week—retreat upwards to skim past the undersides of Eddie’s knees, to wrap around Eddie’s thighs. 

Eddie likes to think of them as  _tentacles_ : the word is delicious with associations. As sinuous as it is seductive.  

If they were ever to consume Eddie—not that they would, at least not in any way that could not be remedied—they would start here. Bite through thick muscle to drag serrated teeth against hidden bone. Snap it and suck the marrow hiding inside: the idea sends a suggestion of sharpness across the skin of their inner thigh.  

Eddie sighs as they bite, but the temporary conglomerations of teeth—a mix of predator and prey, like Eddie’s own—and tongue only grip the flesh rather than ripping it free. Many mouths gain purchase on their skin, biting but not chewing, forming and reforming in their supple mass. Eddie gains a multitude of bruises, sucked into vivid existence and left as ornament until they decide otherwise together. 

Eddie’s thighs are full and strong and the way they tense when touched and tongued is delectable.  _Their_ thighs, as Venom sinks in. 

They do not need to read Eddie’s mind to know what he is thinking about now. The other muscles that would be first on their list of comestibles are tensing as well, at the base of Eddie’s spine. 

“What—whatcha got planned there, V?” Eddie asks; the words are thick in their throat. 

**Acts of service** , they say, and send tendrils to the places where Eddie is most vulnerable. It is as much a strategy of psychology as it is sensation: Eddie is embarrassed by how he reacts when their nipples are teased. He has delicious memories of tracing Anne’s with his callused fingers and his full lips, and intriguing fantasies of catching at Dan’s with their sharpest teeth, but his own responsiveness sends a thrill of shame up their spine. 

**Admit you like it, Eddie** , they say. **It’s** ** _least_** **you can do,** **if it is as you say, and** **we do so much for you.**  

“I, hah, I—” Eddie squirms. “You know we like it, V.” 

**We** **like what?**  

“Oh fuck, we like when we  _touch_ there,” Eddie says, cock painfully hard, posture taut with embarrassment. The flooding of the tissue with blood is a song under their skin. They wind a tendril around Eddie’s cock, wrapping it several times over, before the tip continues on. Shivers follow in its wake. They tease Eddie’s hole, their hole, with a suggestion of touch, more like breath than contact. 

**Where do** **we** **like being touched, Eddie? Suddenly, we are uncertain**. 

“Fuck,” Eddie groans.  His voice reverberates pleasantly in their skull. “Oh, Christ,  _anywhere_.” 

**A t** e **chnically accurate** **response** **.**  

Part of the pleasure of manipulating Eddie’s body is that they may move it from the outside or inside. When they tease a wet tendril inside Eddie, slick to ease the intrusion, the surrounding, puckered flesh relaxes because they make it. It can be pleasurable to be rough with their body, but tonight seems to be more about embarrassment than force. 

They are sometimes surprised by what they end up doing with Eddie.  

Never as surprised as Eddie, though. 

They shape their tongue around Eddie’s cock, prehensile and muscular. Saliva drips, cooling as it traces along sensitive skin, meets air. More saliva begins a digestion process they will not complete, but they enjoy thinking of enzymes breaking down the very limits of where Eddie meets environment.

Once Eddie can feel the couch get damp beneath them, their brain lights up with...the feeling is not exactly humiliation. Mortification, perhaps. They liked when they found that word in Eddie’s thesaurus and matched it to his memories. It conjures images of penance, of sacred suffering. Eddie is sacred. And he likes to suffer. 

**The mortification of the flesh** , they say. **That** **’s** ** _you_** **, Eddie** **.**  

Eddie has adjusted to the sensation—the squelch of their tongue around his glans, the tease of their flesh against hidden, ecstatic nerves—so much so that he replies with a compound sentence. Extended stimulation sometimes makes him talkative. It is another way Eddie attempts to deal with embarrassment.  

“You can compliment me all you want, V, but I’m still, I dunno, I’m still not sure you’re getting a fair deal here.” 

It is a challenge. And in another sense, a request. Effective communication. 

**Hm** , they say, imitating a noise Eddie makes when he’s working, when he crouches over the computer and scowls.  **Allow us to present our rebuttal.**  

They flip Eddie over, so their body is face-down on the couch. Tentacles find purchase on the couch and sling Eddie across the cushions. They wrap around their limbs and joints, pushing Eddie’s shoulders down and pulling their hips up.  

Eddie shudders at the posture, his imaginings of what it looks like from an outside perspective. Their cheek presses hard against the damp cushion. Their legs are forced open. He groans deep in their chest as they spread round flesh to expose Eddie’s hole and the tentacle breaching it. The pull of muscle and fat, the knowledge of the hidden being visible is of particular interest to Eddie’s sense of shame, so they keep the grip of their tendrils tight.  

The tentacle filling Eddie pulses as their tongue flicks the sensitive underside of Eddie’s cock. The resulting whine is satisfying; muffled though it is from the couch, they hear it from inside, feel the clench of Eddie’s chest as they fuck him harder. 

**Tell us** **how much we like it, Eddie.**  

Eddie moans into the couch, clenching their fists. There are images in their mind—surely now is a permissible time to see into Eddie’s thoughts, after asking nicely?—of degradation. Humiliation at enjoying penetration. Epithets soaked in shame. But beneath it all, a shuddering pleasure that feeds on the shame, needs it like they need Eddie. 

As they fuck Eddie, they pump out the semen he produced earlier, depositing it inside him. 

“Ah fuck,” Eddie says at the sensation, “Is that—” 

**Yes.** **Yours. Ours.**  

Eddie’s response is an animal moan: his use of vibrations is far more communicative than Dan realizes. Their hips rub against the writhing coils of their tongue, the sodden couch cushions beneath. 

**We look forward to feeling it drip out of you.**  

Eddie screams the next time, and the next.  

Later, once he lies trembling, their throat raw from being stopped up—it became necessary after the neighbor pounded on the wall and there was the threat of interruption—Venom loops around their neck again.  

**We enjoy our mutual acts of service, Eddie. Perhaps we will allow ourselves to** **share** **more.**  

Eddie’s reply is a gargle. It is very eloquent.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, consider [reblogging it on Tumblr!](https://tolarianfic.tumblr.com/post/180182349809/acts-of-service-symbrock-fic)
> 
> Content Notes:  
> \- In general, Venom does not ask for consent before doing anything here: Eddie would consent if asked but Venom does not yet understand the importance of consent; Venom also violates a promise not to manipulate Eddie's fine motor skills without asking and does not apologize  
> \- Venom engages in some breathplay with Eddie  
> \- Venom remembers a tipsy Dan telling Eddie his voice sounds like he was punched in the throat; Venom expresses a desire to eat anyone who tried to do it  
> \- Venom manually stimulates Eddie's genitals using Eddie's hand; later they tell Eddie to take over the stimulation and he does  
> \- Venom tells Eddie to imagine having his agency and responsibility radically curtailed: it is not a genuine offer, but rather a thought meant to stimulate Eddie's submissiveness  
> \- Venom stretches Eddie's skin, pushing out from inside in a way that is painful but not harmful; similarly, they cover Eddie entirely, very briefly giving him a sense of being smothered  
> \- Eddie ejaculates and Venom absorbs the semen; later, they exude the same substance while penetrating him anally; they express a desire to feel it drip out of him  
> \- Venom imagines eating Eddie: the reference is pretty explicit but it's imaginary  
> \- Venom forms multiple mouth to bite and suck Eddie's lower body; there are many resulting bruises  
> \- Venom recalls Eddie's memories of sex with Anne and his fantasy of biting Dan  
> \- Venom reads Eddie's mind without permission, mistaking an earlier conversation for adequate consent  
> \- Eddie screams while achieving orgasm; the screams are muffled by a tentacle, leaving Eddie's throat sore; a neighbor clearly heard their encounter and banged on the wall
> 
> Thank-you for reading!
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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